Next Piece
by KeoMajor
Summary: An O/C fanfic. Reimagining the One Piece world centuries into the future, similar to Avatar the Legend of Korra. Read, review, and enjoy.


**One Piece: Next Piece  
**

Over 300 years ago Monkey D. Luffy set out to do the impossible. He followed in the footsteps of the great Gol D. Roger and decided he too would become the Pirate king. Along with his legendary crew, the Strawhat pirates, they conquered the Grand Line proving to the world that dreams once again can come true.

Despite the odds stacked against them they reached the fantastical island Raftel, revealing the hidden truth behind the Ancient Kingdom and the World Government, inciting a world encompassing war. During this war everyone clashed. As a result the 3 ancient weapons were brought out from their slumber, awoken and unleashed again. Pluton devastated the landscape, Poseidon besieged the seas, and Uranus tore through the very skies.

They caused chaos.

Weapons so powerful they managed to change the very landscape of the world. The 4 seas were no more, replaced by undersea continents that rose in their place. The age of pirates had officially ended... but as always, a new age was afoot.

A hundred years of war. A hundred years of death for all; the innocent and the convicted. With the absence of the World Government, every country wanted to make themselves the next big ruling power. Armies marched over lands that had seen peace all its days, war tore through quaint little villages. No one was safe. Those who once called themselves royalty, nobles, and even pirates became warlords and generals. And just when it seemed there would be no end... The warring stopped.

Punk Dynasty, heralded forth by their amazing advancements in technology, five hundred years beyond any of the competition, managed to enforce themselves as the new world leaders. They came and they conquered. Simple rifles and swords, nor even the fruits of the devil stood a chance against their mechanical behemoths. And thus the scene had been set for the next age to begin...

Years later, the world had rebuilt itself tightly under the grasp of the Punk Dynasty and it's many conquered countries, and all the nations and lands it continued to collect. Flags were now their trophies, kings and castles their toys. The Strawhats Pirates had faded into legend, along with the history of the blue world that existed before the time of land, now considered nothing but myth by many. Pirates no longer existed, but with the rules imposed by the Punk Dynasty a new type of rogue appeared. The Travelers..

Brave and adventurous, or brash and greedy, whatever the reasoning behind their motives, many set off into the uncharted lands, defying the rules of the Dynasty. One by one many entered the Grand Road, searching for treasure and adventure. Then one day... the impossible happened. The Grand Road was conquered. Summer D. Fiennes became the Traveler King, the first to climb Mt. Forbade.

30 years ago he was finally captured by the army, and executed by laser firing squad. Thousands gathered to see his execution, some having never seen the myth in person, expecting to find a beast or unfathomable creature more so than a man. Yet, their the man stood. Summer D. Fiennes held his head high, smiling out to the world, staring off into the distance as if he longed for adventure even now...

_"The dreams of every man are simple, despite what we all may think we long for. Deep down, we all just want to be free. Wealth? Fame? Power?! I laugh at those qualities, yet I've attained everyone in my never ending search for freedom... the world has bound us in chains, yet there are still those who dream of touching the skies beyond our boundaries. Seek my treasure, reach the peak, attain your freedom. Many may die, many may fail, but one shall acquire it all..." _

Summer smiled, remembering a familiar little phrase he'd read in a fairy tale book as a child... The army raised their guns, preparing to fire.

_"I've left it at the top... the ultimate destination for the greatest traveler... it's all there... in One Piece." _Summer was executed, but his words set fire in the hearts of many, and thus a new age began. The Great Age of the Traveler...

* * *

**_8 years ago..._**

A cool summer breeze crept across the continent of East Land, carrying a welcome gust of cool air towards any wary folks stuck out in the blistering sun. At the very tip of the continent, safely tucked away between a barren wasteland of desert on one side and the Noble Ocean on the other, lied quaint little Genesis Village. The first to feel the wind, yet the only not caring to whether he was cool or on fire, was Clark D. Muratori.

Sauntering towards the village gates, the young boy, only eleven years old, stared forward blankly as the wind beat against his shirtless torso. His short white hair shuffled in the breeze. Blank eyes stared towards nothing, bruised fist from a morning of training swung rhythmically with his gait.

"Mornin' Clark, freezing weather ain't it?" Questioned the old, senile gatekeeper. He was wearing a full body parka despite the fact that it was at least over ninety degrees outside. Sweat dripped from his body. Punk Dynasty's lack of care for, and even more lacking fear of, Genesis Village was never more evident than the person they'd chose to watch its gates.

"Morning." Clark responded blankly, ignoring the man's nonsensical comment on the weather. He raised his wrist scanning the Punk Tracker he, like the rest of the Village, wore around it. The large, metallic, old, rusted gate opened with a creak as he walked in.

The normal hustle and bustle of the city shuffled past Clark as he made his way through the town. No one ever noticed the quiet little orphaned boy moseying down the street, and Clark preferred it just like that. For one, it meant that the caretaker from the orphanage would have even more trouble finding him, and also he wasn't being pestered by their pitying looks today. Those hurt him a lot more than any of his training ever could.

A shiver went over Clark as the wind picked up. He slipped on his black t-shirt, that read **Doom Mood**, staring up at the gathering dark clouds the wind was bringing. Sleeping outside tonight didn't seem like the best option, and thus Clark headed towards The New Bar, the oldest and only bar in all of Genesis Village.

The ruckus coming from inside the bar struck Clark as unusually loud for a Thursday afternoon, and with a curious look he stepped inside. Ritzi, as usual, was lounging nearby the bar sipping on her latest concoction to test it's flavor. Her red hair was tied up into a bun, while her ample cleavage was displayed to the world in the brown and orange striped bikini top she wore. But young Clark, being only eleven, wasn't interested in such things at the moment. Besides, he'd always seen Ritzi as more of a maternal figure than anyone else. And stuff like that was better left to Oedipus.

Alas, instead of eying down Ritzi's voluptuous curves, Clark found his eyes drifting towards the source of the bar's noise. A crew of ragtag looking men were the only patrons visiting today, no doubt keeping the citizens away with their loud yelling and drunken dancing. There were only twelve of them, yet they had more presence than the whole lifeless denizens of the village. Each were captivating enough, but one man stood above them all, drawing Clark's gazing stare.

He stood with one sandal clad foot on the table, adorned in simple golden silk shirt and black slacks. Accessories such as a compass, golden bands and a telescope accentuated his outfit. Dirty blond tresses fell raggedly down to his shoulders, looking as if he hadn't washed it in ages, or just returned from a long trek through the desert. Perhaps both applied. All those things were enough to hold the attention of young Clark's mind, but what really set the man apart from the standard villager were three specific things.

The first, was the broad sword that hung loosely at his waist. It seemed as relaxed and natural as the man himself, which scared Clark more than comforted him. A man who wore his sword like that knew how to use it. The second, was a large silver key shaped like the letter "D" which the man wore around his neck. The last, and most important of all to young adventurous Clark, was the man's Punk Tracker. Unlike Clark's own – which displayed the time, date, and his current location – the stranger's had a red skull and crossbones. The universal sign used by the Punk Dynasty for anyone who has gone off grid. This band of strange men were Travelers.

As Clark came to this realization he gasped loudly, drawing the man's attention. They locked eyes for a split second that seemed like eternity. Suddenly, Clark felt all the power leaving his body and wanted to collapse against the floor. Grinding his teeth together, he held his ground, staring down the man, right back.

"Alexander, it's not nice to stare you know?" Ritzi chimed in, breaking up the staring contest. The intense look faded from the stranger's, Alexander's face, being replaced by one of surprise.

"Sorry, darling." He beamed, speaking to her but never taking his eyes off the young newcomer. "Just checking out my surroundings is all..." His eyes lingered a little moment longer before he turned his attention back on his crew-members, raising his drink up for a random toast as he joined back into the festivities.

"That applies to you as well, Clark Muratori." Clark finally snapped back into attention, slowly dragging his eyes away from the group as he took a seat at the bar.

"I wasn't trying to be rude." He responded blankly, nodding in thanks to the soda placed down before him. He forgo-ed any apologies, figuring the statement had been enough. "Who're those guys? Their Punk Trackers are x-ed out... are they actually travelers?"

Ritzi opened her mouth to respond, but before she could even get those words out, a blur sped into the seat next to Clark. A skinny man, with sky blue hair, gray tanktop and silver wing earrings answered for her.

"It's not nice to talk about people behind their backs, you know? If you really want to know something about someone, you should just ask them, not ask _other _people about them. Especially if it's a dangerous question whispered by a young boy in a bar he shouldn't be in such as 'are they actually travelers?'" The man imitated Clark's voice, leaning forward as if a preying beast was lurking behind him. He spoke so fast that Clark actually only managed to catch every other word, but he recognized an insult when he heard one.

"I didn't whisper it! And I definitely didn't cower in fear!" Clark growled, balling his fist up in anger.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down there mister world boxing champion." The skinny man smirked, raising his hands up in mock surrender. "You don't look like the type who knows how to throw a punch anyway..." He said casually, waving Clark away before taking another sip of his drink.

"What?!" Clark yelled in agitation, eyes narrowed in anger. "We'll see who doesn't..." He threw a quick jab towards the man, but managed to only hit air. "What the... where'd he go?"

"You know..." The man spoke up again, now sitting on the other side of Clark. "You shouldn't go swinging fists about when you don't know how strong the opponent is. It's always best to scout ahead. Learn their strength. Or just be really strong yourself, I suppose. In either case you fail on both fronts." Another torrent of sprinted words spurred forth by the time Clark could even spin around in shock.

"Shut up!" The young boy yelled, swinging wildly again, once more managing to only hit air. Prepared now, he spun around searching for the man and found him once again on his right. Another punch followed, another striking of only air was the result. This continued on for a good couple of moments, until sweat was dripping down Clark's face. His punches were sluggish down, while the strange speedily talking man continuously maintained his same blindingly fast pace.

The partying behind them had stopped as the whole crew found a new source of entertainment, watching the young boy trying to strike their crew member. Some cheered on for Clark to actually make a hit, which in turn only made him angrier. As if he needed their encouragement.

"You know..." The blue haired man spoke up again from Clark's right. "You're obviously tired. Your punches have visibly slowed, and you're sweating like a boar in heat... I'd say now would be a-" His torrent of words were cut off as a suddenly speedy punch came flying towards him. Out of instinct his hand raised up in blinding speed, parrying the blow downwards so that Clark's fist smashed into the wooden bar.

The young boy recoiled in pain, massaging his already bruised fist as he stared murder at the speedy man. The punch had left a small crack along the wood.

"That's quite the jab you have there..." Alexander smiled, walking up in-between the two, placing his hands on the blue-haired man's shoulders. "Hermes, how about we call this one a draw? I think the boy has proved he's not afraid of a good challenge."

Hermes smirked, nodding towards his captain, taking a final sip of his drink. Hearing the slurping Clark realized the man had been drinking it the whole time he'd been trying to strike him. He'd only been toying with him all along. "Sounds about right, Cap. About time for me to get another drink anyway. Good job, kid." Hermes added before vanishing from the seat, rejoining his friends.

Alexander's eyes followed his blinding speed back towards the fun, before he turned himself towards Clark. Ritzi seemed amused as she chuckled to herself silently behind the bar. "As for you kid..." Alexander began, slowly reaching out his hand as if to alert Clark he meant no harm. "My name is Alexander Achilles, captain of this ragtag bunch of Travelers. Nice to meet ya."

Clark stared blankly at the man's hands, before swinging himself back around towards the bar. Gripping his soda, he responded monotonously, "I've never heard of you."

"Clark!" Ritzi tisked, shaking her head in disappointment. "Don't be so rude."

Alexander raised his hand up, silencing her qualms. Ritzi, normally headstrong and stubborn even against the biggest men of the village, actually quieted down. Despite the anger, Clark did respect the authority and power the man emanated.

"Don't worry 'bout it darling. That's just the way of today's youth. They have no sense of respect for their elders and all. 'Tis the cool thing to do." Alexander laughed, taking a seat on the bar-stool next to Clark, and propping his feet up.

"I don't do things because they're cool. I really haven't heard of you."

Alexander smiled, staring up at Clark with a raised eyebrow. "You're an interesting kid Clark. Where are your parents?"

"I don't have parents." Clark responded blankly, turning his attention on Ritzi. "I need a place to sleep tonight."

Ritzi chuckled, looking between the two equally stubborn men. Neither intent on letting the other get their way in this conversation. "Sure, sure, Clark. You know my doors are always open to you." She reached forward rubbing his hair playfully. Clark pulled back angrily, frowning up in anger. He hated when people treated him like a child.

"Everyone has parents." Alexander commented, which Clark ignored in lieu of talking to Ritzi. And so on the conversation went as Alexander probed more, and Clark found new ways to dodge. In fact, this conversation stemmed on beyond just that day, extending into a few days, and then weeks.

Each day was the same, with small varieties of change. Alexander and his crew would venture off the grid into the lands beyond, traveling adventurer's gaining small fame with each excursion. Clark would head into the woods and train, before returning back to the bar just in time to meet up with the crew. In the times before Alexander's arrival Ritzi had never seen Clark visit the bar so often, months often going past before he stopped by for a meal and a bed. Now he came daily.

Eventually he started answering questions, little by little, still never revealing anything about his past, but actually conversing like a normal person with the inquisitive traveler. After a while he even ventured into the back of the bar, hanging out with the crew, nodding along with the music and playing their games. He still had his angry outbursts whenever one accused him of immaturity or offered anything he viewed as charity, but for the first time she could remember Ritzi saw the young boy smile. She even heard him laugh. An act so out of character for Clark that she offered him his first taste of an alcoholic drink because of it. Which, in turn, only served to make Clark angry as Ritzi and the crew laughed at him.

The weeks became a month, and then two, before not long Ritzi found herself sitting behind the bar three months later listening to the two men bantering like old friends.

"So you've not had your first kiss yet then?" Alex asked with a smile. Clark froze up holding his soda, staring as if he'd just been offered poison.

"I-I I just haven't had the time. I focus on training, getting stronger is all."

"Well, that's just because you haven't met the right darling yet, tis all. You'll find one though, a beauty who catches your eye beyond all the treasures the world has to offer, more spectacular than any new landscape could ever be..." Alexander trailed off, eying Ritzi as she washed down the empty glasses. She looked up catching his eye, and he quickly looked away, with rosy cheeks he pressed on. "Err... onto a different topic, what exactly is it that you're training for?"

Clark sipped on his soda, staring at Alexander with narrowed eyes. The young boy didn't really understand all the eccentricities of body language just yet, but he knew embarrassment when he saw it. He had never really pictured Alexander as the embarrassment type.

"What am I training for? I don't really know exactly..."

"A man without goals is no man at all."

"Hmm," Clark pondered, drumming his small fingers along the bar. "Well, if I had to pick something... then maybe... I guess it'd be..." His unspecific rambling was suddenly cut off as the door burst open.

A large woman, brown curls hanging down her head, rounded into the bar waving a beefy, raised fist in the air.

"There you are, you little dodging miscreant! You've done well to avoid me, but no child in my village will run around sleeping on the streets like some dirty animal!" Matilda, caretaker of the Genesis Orphanage ignored all the other patrons as she made her way towards Clark. Thick fingers gripped him by the ear, easily uplifting him from his seat and dragging him away. "I'll make sure you're taken care of the right way, like a child is supposed to be. Stop fighting it!" Matilda yelled, although she hardly seemed effected by Clark's useless punches and kicks. A woman in her position had to be able to fight off any dangerous kids who got the wrong idea about their caretaker disciplining them.

"Let me go you old hag!" Clark continued to free himself to no avail.

"Boy, those strikes are like spitballs to a rhino." Matilda chimed, gripping his ear even tighter for extra emphasis.

"Eh hmm. Excuse me, darling." Matilda rounded around on Alexander now, shocked for a moment to find herself eye to eye with him. Not too many men around the village had grown to be the same height as the massive maiden. Recovering herself, an annoyed expression returned to her face once again.

"Well, what do you want fool?"

Alexander chuckled. "My name is Alexander, and the boy is under my protection."

"If you want to adopt him, come down to the orphanage and fill out the proper paper work. Then I'll gladly do a background check, ensuring you're of proper parenting material." Matilda growled in response, although her resolve didn't seem nearly as strong. Through all his encounters with her, Clark had never seen Matilda showing anything that resembled fear... that is, until now.

"I repeat," The boyish smirk faded from Alexander's face as he hoisted up his blade into full view, raising his wrist just so the skull and crossbones were visible. "The boy is under **my **protection, at _**whatever **_cost necessary."

Matilda gulped, finally taking notice of the dozen odd men that sat behind her. All unnaturally quiet as their eyes lingered on her. Matilda's own eyes drifted cautiously from them to the blade, towards the dangerous mark of a Traveler, back down to the blade again, before finally falling on Clark. The boy seemed more occupied glaring down Alexander than escaping at the moment. Matilda's hands slowly fell towards the cudgel she wore at her waist, flexing unconsciously as if deciding what move to make. Alexander raised his eyebrow with a smirk, once again finding himself impressed by these local villagers.

"Well, if that's how you want to handle things darling..." Alexander began casually bringing his palm forward. Before it could reach its apex, Ritzi intervened placing her own hand atop of his.

"Don't do anything brash Alexander, Matilda is a good person." Alexander smirked again, nodding in response as he lowered his hand. Ritzi looked at the woman who stood a good foot above her. "You don't do anything brash either Matilda, just leave Clark alone here for now. I wouldn't do anything to endanger the boy anymore than you would. Just leave things be for the moment." Matilda hesitated, her hand still looming over her cudgel before finally she shied away in defeat. Her body still felt odd from the shivers she had felt not just moments ago. That Alexander was no ordinary man... nor Traveler for that matter...

"Fine. I'll concede for now Ritzi, but you boy..." Matilda glared down at Clark as she released his ear. "I'll be back for you." She frowned, observing Alexander once more before taking her leave.

"Ahh, well that was a situation avoided," Alexander shrugged, looking completely again like his normal grinning self as if nothing had happened. "Orph! Back to the music!" He yelled at his musician who nodded in compliance, picking up his strange instrument he called a lyre from the table.

"NO!" Clark screamed, pausing the fun once more before it could even begin.

"Oh, something to say have we... perhaps a thank you?"

"There's no thank you. I didn't need your help. Why'd you protect me?"

"Because you couldn't do it on your own, of course."

"Ahh! There you go again, treating me like a child. I don't need anyone's help, especially not yours!"

"Clark, listen my boy, everyone needs-"

"Don't lecture me. I'm tired of your lectures. All I care about is being stronger. Strong enough so I don't need people like you to lecture me ever again."

"That's a terrible mind state, just sit back down and we'll talk about this."

"No! No! No!" Clark screamed again, slapping away Alexander's extended hand. "There's nothing to talk about, I don't take orders from you. You're not my father!" Clark paused, staring forward stoically before spinning around and briskly pacing toward the exit.

"Wait," Ritzi placed her hand on his shoulder, "Don't run off just because you're angry."

"Shut up, you're not my mother either." He said blankly, shaking her hand off of him. "I don't have parents, remember?" With that, Clark sprinted out of the bar. Ritzi stepped forward to chase after him, but Alexander gently gripped her hand to stop her.

"Let him go Ritzi. Sometimes men need time alone to work out their problems. He just needs to let off some steam..."

Clark set off aimlessly from the bar, stomping through the city with his eyes trained on the ground. No set destination in mind, he soon found himself arriving at the gate bordering the city. The gate entrapping him, and all the rest, inside.

"Evening, Clark. Odd timing for you to be heading out ain't it?" The senile old gatekeeper looked up from his newspaper, typing onto the keyboard embedded inside of the desk in front of him. "Where ya headed?"

"I'm going out to the forest."

"Return time?"

"Later."

"Alrighty, I've given ya 4 hours. Scan ya tracker and be safe out there. Travelers about in this city, so I hear."

Clark grumbled at the mention of travelers, placing his tracker underneath the scanner. The gate popped open, and he headed out towards the clearing where he always trained.

Along the way towards the clearing, Clark noticed tread-marks along the ground. It was impossible for an animal to have left marks like these, instead he recognized them as the grooves he typically saw along the road whenever someone was driving around in those strange wheeled carts, called cruisers. Except, these were huge, wide enough for both his feet and then some. Interest piqued, and caution put on the back burner by anger, young Clark followed the tread-marks.

The trail lead towards an opening, not much different than the clearing he trained in everyday. A small circle of rocky terrain, enshrouded by larges oak trees on all sides. Shadows of the leafy giants above danced along the ground as the sun made it's trek across the sky. In the middle of the clearing were a pile of bags, each varying in size. From one Clark saw the light glinting off its contents. Curious and young, he made his way over ripping open the bags.

He gasped discovering the contents inside: shining diamonds, beautiful pearls, bundled up money, and even weapons ammunition. It was a travelers dream discovery.

"Who would be stupid enough to leave it here?" He wondered aloud, noticing a small chest he'd left unopened. Ripping it apart like an impatient child on Christmas, he was rather disappointed to find only a piece of fruit and stack of papers inside.

Sitting on the chest, Clark shuffled boredly through the papers as he munched on the fruit. It tasted absolutely terrible, but he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and poisoned food didn't seem like the kind of thing you'd keep inside a chest. That seemed more for delicacies or provisional cuisine. Perhaps the fruit was something rich nobles ate, solely to prove their wealth despite its atrocious taste.

The story on the other-hand was actually quite intriguing. Labeled Chapter 14 of The Great Usopp's tales, featuring a tale about strange men whose body were bombs and wax, and a legendary land where dinosaurs still walked the Earth. Extreme fantasy of it aside, Clark found himself enjoying the story.

"Haha, no way." Young Clark smiled, pondering whether or not Alexander and Ritzi would be worried about him. It was getting a bit dark, and perhaps he'd been overreacting to the whole thing. After-all they did only want to lookout for him...

"Glad you're having so much fun..." A gruff voice broke Clark from his thoughts, as he spun around falling off the chest onto the hard dirt beneath him. "...it's always good to laugh before you die." Said the owner of the gruff voice, a vile looking man with broad shoulders and black hair tied back into a ponytail. His brown trench coat hung loosely, a large ax resting in his hands as he stared down at Clark in disgust.

"Who the hell are you?" Clark growled, pulling himself off the ground, and getting into a fighting stance. The man was much bigger than he was, but he'd never been backed down from anyone, and he damn sure wasn't going to be today to start running.

"Won't matter when you're dead!" The vile, at least in appearance although most likely deeply set in his soul as well, swung the huge ax downwards. Having been around Hermes and the gang for so long, Clark found himself surprised at how nimble the huge man was actually capable of attacking. Leaping backward, he just barely dodged the blow, watching as huge chunks of the Earth flew back with him.

Landing, he immediately dragged his left leg across the ground, pivoting on the right as he prepared for a sweeping kick. He'd done this literally thousands of times, often all at once during his training, but this time was different. Something had changed...

In the midst of his spin, a strange silverish vent magically grew out of his leg. It seemed to be apart of his body, molding in perfectly with his skin as it sprouted. A blue colored burst of air began to stream from it. Slowly at first, before bursting out all at once, launching him around like the world's fastest beyblade.

Clark spun in a circle for so many rotations, the clearing around him because a blur of green and orange, with the occasional speck of brown that was his enemies trench-coat. His mouth hung open as he finally stopped, holding his head to regain his equilibrium, all the while trying to figure out what the hell had just happened to him.

The vile, or at least he'd been told so quite a lot through the years, man stepped back in his own form of wonder, tinged with the early stages of a dawning infernal rage. Stupefied, he glanced from the dizzy boy to the empty brown bag and stack of papers laying by the chest. Something was missing. Infernal rage fully dawning, blazing like a high noon sun in the desert.

"You stupid fool! You ate my devil fruit! Do you have any idea how much the Roke Roke no Mi is worth!?" The vile, a title his own mother used to explain his actions to her friend over bridge, man yelled in pure agony.

Clark, stuck in his own sense of wonder, stared at his leg with wide eyes. "A d-d-devil fruit?! ...Like in the book? But that's... impossible..." He muttered. "Impossible..." His muttering continued, mostly aiming to prove to himself that he'd been imagining things, and Mr. vile had simply gone insane.

Whatever he was trying to prove to himself the vile, all his ex-girlfriend's seemingly favorite adjectives, man had his own mind well set. He'd get that fruit back, even if he had to cut it out of the kid. He swung his large ax down again. Clark, still wandering the realm of bewilderment, noticed too late.

Leaping back at the last second, he crossed his arms over his chest, realizing he'd never escaped the blow's distance in time. His body, apparently not agreeing with the idea of testing soft flesh against a battle ax's metal, acted for him. Vents once again sprouted, this time on his forearms, that same blue wind blowing forth, pushing him back, the smell of burnt rubber permeating the air as his shoes skidded across the Earth.

His vile enemy seemed thrown off for a moment, but gritted his teeth in focus heaving the ax back up for another strike. Devil fruit or not, he wouldn't allow himself to lose to some kid. A smirk grew on Clark's face as he thought about this whole situation even more, the man's patient-less anger making him even happier. Whether it really was a mystical fruit, it would surely make him stronger.

Pulling his fist back, he pictured his fist rushing forward, a vent suddenly sprouting on his elbow. Blue wind began to burst from the opening... The ground collapsed into nothing below him. Solid earth transforming into quicksand, the blue wind blowing him nowhere. His opponent leaped back, out of range of the insta-quicksand. In the distance he heard a roar...

"What the hell is this?" Clark said, thinking of nothing else that seemed appropriate at the moment.

"The curse of those who eat the devil fruits, my boy..." Alexander's booming voice carried across the clearing as he casually walked out of the trees surrounding, overlooking the scene with intense face Clark hardly ever seen him wear. "Hated by the seas so much, they'll even chase you through the very Earth itself..." He mused, stepping inbetween the two fighters as if going on an afternoon walk.

"Now isn't the time for a teaching of ancient spirituality," The vile, at least that's how Alexander would have pegged him, man spoke up even more angered at the arrival of another fool. "How about you just step out of my way so I can kill this kid?"

Alexander sighed, looking towards the sinking Clark, barely managing to keep himself from drowning into the abyss below. "Sorry, I can't do that. The boy is under my..." He eyed Clark with a wry smirk, "He's under my protection."

The vile man growled, particularly vilely, noticing the jolly roger displayed on Alexander's punk tracker. Raising up his own arm, he displayed his own as well. "Names Moral, the Vile. Being a traveler yourself, I'm sure you'd understand what it means to face me when my bounty is 15 million beri..." Moral, the vile, said vilely in a distinctly anti-moral manner. He hefted his huge ax, hovering it just over Alexander's shoulder so that the blade nipped his neck. "So... as I said, it'd be best if you moved now."

Calmly Alexander reached up while speaking, "Those who brag about their strength are the least likely to possess it." He casually slapped the ax, wrenching it from Moral's hands, and sending it flying off into the forest. A thunk followed behind as it slapped into a tree some feet away. "And a weapon isn't meant to threaten... it's meant to kill." Alex proceeded to grab his own weapon, the broad sword hanging at his waist.

"The fu-" Moral was silenced before he could finish his sentence. Alexander placing his blade back into it's holster as the man collapsed, bloody, onto the ground. The smiling traveler made his way over to Clark.

"You know, you're a troublesome boy. Running away and up and eating devil fruits... who does such-" This time Alexander's words were cut off as a Gaia Beast, the distant roar heard earlier by Clark finally catching up, sprung from beneath the earth.

Screaming, Clark closed his eyes as he prepared himself for death. He could smell the rancid breath of the monster, feel the heat, his feet being ripped up from the quicksand below him, the teeth tearing... Clark didn't feel the teeth.

Opening his eyes, he stared into the face of the beast. Giant yellow eyes, narrowed over an even larger set of pincers, stared back from the overgrown scorpion-like creature in front of him. But it wasn't watching him, instead it locked eyes with Alexander, and it seemed... it seemed afraid. Roaring, with a blood curdling scream, it turned away. Perhaps as an alternative to the meal it had seeked the most, it snatched up Moral, swallowing him whole before diving back into the Earth like it was clay.

"Well... that was unexpected." Alexander chucked, holding Clark tight against his chest. Fearless as ever, Clark could even hear his heart beating a steady rhythm, contrasting greatly with the marching band currently portraying his own. Clark's eyes caught the pool of blood slowly amassing nearby them, a steady dripping helping to expand it. Following the drips, he caught sight of what used to be Alexander's arm. His sword arm...

"Alexander... your... your arm..." Clark whispered out, somewhere between a mix of pain, shock and anguish.

"Oh, that old thing? Been meaning to lose it for years now. Grehahaha." Alexander laughed. "Much better than a heel I'd say." He added looking down at Clark not with pain or resentment, but with concern. Genuine concern.

For the first time, in a very long time that he could remember, Clark felt like a child. He felt helpless, weak, and vulnerable. But he also felt protected, cared for and loved. Clark lowered his head into Alexander's chest. For the first time, in a very long time that he could remember, Clark D. Muratori felt tears streaming down his cheeks.

* * *

It was a few days later as Alexander as his crew stood nearby the western entrance of the gate. It was the official rest stop of Genesis Village, although the town was so off the grid it hardly ever had many visitors. Indeed, Alexander's cruiser was the only one parked, a huge behemoth that seemed out of place in the small town. Pure alabaster white, it seemed to be made out of pure marble rather than whatever metal cruisers were created from. To Clark it resembled a huge ship like the ones he'd read about in Usopp's tales, except it had caterpillar tracks along the bottom.

Clark stood nearby, watching the crew load up as Alexander and Ritzi talked not too far away. He decided not to pry on their conversation, sensing that it was rather private. Instead, he enjoyed seeing the items the crew decided to bring along, mentally making a checklist of everything. Apparently, beer was a very high priority for travelers.

A movement caught his eye, and his attention drifted towards the two as Ritzi made her leave. Alexander was frowning watching her walk away, and Clark thought he saw something impossible, it seemed he saw a tear... but he knew Ritzi didn't cry...

"Ahh, women right, my boy? Don't understand when a man has to leave and see the world..." Alexander mused, walking over to him.

"I-I wouldn't know anything about that..." Clark stuttered, glancing nervously to the side.

"Indeed, I suppose you wouldn't. Grehaha."

"Alexander..."

"Yes, my boy?"

Clark stared at the ground, gripping his fist tight, before thrusting one high into the air as if reaching for the stars. "I know what I want to train for! I know why I want to be strong!"

Alexander grinned, raising his eyebrow as the rest of his crew, finished with their tasks, gathered up behind him, "And why would that be?"

"I want to be freer than anyone! I want to be a traveler! And not just any traveler! I'm going to become the king of all travelers! Even greater than Summer Fiennes!"

"And how do you plan on doing this?" Alexander asked.

"How...?" Clark lowered his fist for a moment, pondering. A sly smirk etched onto his face. "By gaining the strongest crew every seen. Even stronger than yours! And I'll protect them with my life... and... and..." He grinned even wider now. "And I'll trust them with mine." He finished, staring defiantly at Alexander and his crew as if expecting an insult. His face was the picture of surprise as they yelled into the air, cheering him on.

"Ahh, yes, that's it boy. Become great, greater than the world has ever known, and come see me when you're that great and we'll see who'll need protection then, eh?"

Clark, stuck in surprise, put on the toothy grin of a happy child. Something he wasn't even embarrassed about, for once. "Indeed, we will."

"Well then, Clark. If it's a promise..." Alexander reached up around his neck, removing the D shaped key he wore around it, reaching down to wrap it around Clark. "Then as men, we'll secure it with a reminder. So long as you bare this key, you have no choice but to do what you've promised. Give it back to me when you've unlocked freedom, won't ya?"

Clark smiled, tears streaming down his face yet again. From never crying, to spewing like a fountain he felt so childish, but still he smiled. "Yes, yes, Alexander I will."

"Well then, good my boy. I'll see you then," He stood up, looking towards Ritzi who stood a few feet behind, "And I'll see you so long as my eyes stay open darling." Alexander raised his hand, motioning for the crew to board the cruiser. There was a whirring sound of machinery come to life as the engine started, and the tracks began to roll propelling them out towards the open land.

Clark stood there, with Ritzi by his side, watching until the cruiser vanished over the open horizon. He rubbed the strange key he now wore around his neck. It was a promise. He'd be the greatest ever.

King of the Travelers.

* * *

**Author's notes:**

Felt like writing a fanfic, but I didn't want to do just the average copy luffy's story insert-your-pirate-here kind of thing. Therefore, I decided to take an approached similar to Avatar: The Legend of Korra and set it in what I imagine the future of the OP world to become. Obviously, I'm probably wrong, but I did it this way for the sake of telling a good story. This is only technically the first chapter, and I haven't decided if I'll continue this as a series or not, but I have planned ahead for such a thing just in case. At any rate, just read it and enjoy. If people like it, I'll likely continue.

P.S. Next Piece is a tentative title, and I'm kind of searching for one... Also, I'm aware of certain similarities to Luffy's own past. But... it's like that for a reason (And not laziness, lol)


End file.
